


Post-Credits Scenes

by Halbereth



Series: Heroes are Easy, People are Hard [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:11:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halbereth/pseuds/Halbereth
Summary: “Hi.” Bucky ran his thumb around the edge of the shield. “I’m, uh. Not dead.”Takes place immediately after the end ofHeroes are Easy, People are Hard.





	Post-Credits Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> Given that Heroes are Easy, People are Hard ended with a Marvel-esque smash cut to credits, I decided to add another Marvel touch.

**Written by Halbereth**

**Art by Lorien**

**Beta-ing by Pineau_Noir and Lorien**

~

“Be there in a bit.” Bucky waved to Peter and Tony to cover his nerves as he stepped out of the elevator. It seemed to take a long time for him to walk through the medical floor until he reached Steve’s hallway; longer still to walk down the hall, his footsteps muffled on the short carpet but, in his head, almost as loud as his heartbeat. 

Steve’s door was open, and he paused on the threshold to sling the shield off his back. Steve sat on the edge of his bed, his back to the door, gazing out the window. He held himself stiffly, though, and Bucky knew he’d heard him coming.

He cleared his throat and Steve turned around at once, an odd, intent expression on his face that even Bucky couldn’t read, his eyes bright. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Bucky ran his thumb around the edge of the shield. “I’m, uh. Not dead.”

“Good,” Steve said. He licked his lips.

Bucky took a deep breath. “So. We should talk.” 

“That’s what you said,” Steve agreed levelly.

“Thanks,” Bucky blurted, lifting the shield slightly. Yeah, it was a cop-out, but that  _ was  _ another important thing to talk about, after all.

The look Steve gave him said he knew very well what Bucky was doing, but he went along with it. It wasn’t completely surprising he’d want to dance around the real conversation too. “How’d it handle?”

“Like a dream,” Bucky said. “I didn’t try anything too fancy, but . . . remembered more than I thought, I guess.” 

“Yeah.” Steve looked at him, a thoughtful look, the way he did when he was thinking about drawing something. “You look good with it. Looks right.” 

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that.

“How’d Tony take it?” Steve’s voice was casual, but his eyes flickered to Bucky’s face and his jaw and shoulders were set. 

“He got really quiet,” Bucky said. Steve pressed his lips together. “And then he rolled his eyes and said something about how he should’ve seen that coming.” That wasn’t quite true--Tony  _ had _ done that, but first he’d stared for what felt like a very long time, long enough that Peter had started to look worried. Then he’d sighed, looked to the side, shook his head a bit; looked back at Bucky and given him a very small nod.  _ Then _ the theatrical “fine,” the obvious acceptance. But it meant the same thing, in the end. 

Steve let out a breath of laughter and the tension drained away. “I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t think of it until right then. But it--it made sense.” He suddenly looked concerned again. “You don’t have to keep doing it. I didn’t mean anything like that. But it means a lot to some people, still, to have Captain America out there, and this . . . it doesn’t have to be me. But it has to mean something, and if  _ anyone  _ knows what it means to stand for something, to look out for people, it’s you.” His tone brooked no argument.

It took a second for Bucky’s throat to work properly. “Well, thanks, then, like I said.”

“Sure,” Steve said. 

They were quiet for a moment. Then Steve took a sharp breath at the same time as Bucky began, “Steve—”

“Yes?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised, as Bucky broke off, and this was really going to happen, they were really going to talk about this. 

“About--before I left—”

“You mean the kiss?” Steve asked. He held Bucky’s gaze even as he turned pink, because this was Steve, after all; he  _ had  _ to be a little shit, even if it embarrassed him too. 

And that, of all things, almost made Bucky cry with--with  _ something _ , nervousness and relief mixed up with an absurd rush of fondness in his chest. He turned it into a laugh. “Yeah, punk. I mean the kiss.” 

“Well, spit it out,” Steve said with just a trace of a smirk. 

Bucky shook his head. “Look--I—” He forced himself to look at Steve. “Okay, first--I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t— I hope I wasn’t out of line. You said something when you were drifting in and out, the first day you crashed, is all.”

Now Steve was the one looking away. He shifted his weight on the bed to settle into a patch of sunlight. It glanced through his hair, turning it to gold. “You weren’t out of line,” he said finally, but his expression was guarded, wary, like when he’d mentioned Tony. 

Bucky frowned, his spirits plummeting. “Really?” he asked. “‘Cause you don’t look too happy about it.” 

“No, I am,” Steve said, brow creased, looking at the wall. “Really. I just—it’s a lot to take in, because--” He floundered. 

“Steve?”

“I’ve wanted this,” Steve said softly, “for a really long—” He broke off and closed his eyes as though in pain, and his voice came out harshly when he went on. “How long?” he asked. “How long for you?” 

“Not just this century, if that's what you mean,” Bucky said, voice shaking with fear and embarrassment and hope. It was hard to breathe, hard to think. Part of him was already euphoric, dizzy with relief and astonishment at Steve’s “I’ve wanted this,” but most of him was gutted by the voice he said it in. 

Steve opened his eyes and looked back at him, tense, impassive. Bucky licked his lips. “It’s not new for me either,” he said. “It’s not--I don’t think I owe you, or whatever it is you’re worried about, Stevie, I’ve—” 

“Since when?” Steve asked again. That didn't seem to have made him much happier. His gaze was incredibly intense. He looked  _ braced, _ like he didn’t know whether he was getting good news or bad news. 

“I dunno,” Bucky said, shrugging, helpless. “When--when I realized I was interested in guys, I guess.” 

Steve blinked at him. 

“I mean,” Bucky went on, heart hammering, trying hard not to sound stupid, “that I thought you were--that I was attracted to you, anyway. I didn’t really figure out how I felt about you for another couple years. So sixteen or nineteen, I guess, depending how you want to count it.” 

“You mean--before,” Steve said in a kind of stunned voice. “Not since Azzano or anything--you wanted--when I was still—”

_Oh._ And Bucky wanted to hug him, shake him, cry for him, maybe. “When you were skinny and scrappy and fighting guys twice your size? When you thought you had to prove everything to everyone even though you were already perfect? When you would get so caught up in what you were drawing or reading that you wouldn’t notice anything else and I could just watch you for a while without having to be careful about it?” He cleared his throat. “ _Yes,_ Steve. Hell yeah.”

“Oh,” Steve said in a choked voice, and  _ now  _ he looked happy, impossibly happy.

“Not that I mind this either,” Bucky said awkwardly, gesturing at him. “You’re you. You’re gorgeous. Always have been.” 

“Oh,” Steve said again, eyes shining. “Bucky . . . .”

“What about you?” Bucky asked. “I mean, you said you’ve wanted—”

“About the same time, I guess,” Steve said. “Always knew you were good-looking, but that was just--facts.” He shrugged. “Then one day . . . it was just, oh shit, I’ve really got it bad.” He let out a huff, an incredulous laugh. “Never thought you—” He shook his head and reached out, but Bucky was already moving: four long, fluid steps, the shield tossed onto the bed.

Steve got to his feet just as Bucky reached him. They moved together as seamlessly as they always had: Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, one around his waist, one between his shoulders, as Steve cupped the back of his head and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed like he did everything else once he’d made up his mind: enthusiastic and fierce, with no shade of hesitation. Bucky pulled him closer. He could feel Steve’s smile against his lips, Steve’s fingers curling in the hair at the base of his neck, Steve’s muscles shifting under his t-shirt where Bucky’s hands rested, and he hadn’t known it was possible to be this ecstatic and this comfortable at the same time.

Somewhere, seven or eight floors up, the others were presumably waiting for him to debrief. They’d wonder where he was eventually. But he wasn’t thinking about that much, because Steve was kissing him, all triumph and joy and--yes-- _ watch me prove this _ , and it was perfect. 

They kissed in the sunlight by a hospital bed in a tower in the future, and it felt like home.

~

**With thanks to**

2018 Captain America Big Bang mods

The medical consultant

Everyone who has commented, left kudos, and/or bookmarked the story 

**Shout-out to**

Sebastian Stan’s heartbreaking expressions

Chris Evans’ eyelashes

Robert Downey Jr.’s body language

**Character insights initially developed by**

Feather

SpitAndVinegar

MemoryDragon

Scappodaqui and Tinzelda

Lettered

Lorata

Neery

Fyre

countless others

**Song credits**

Jackson Browne

"Running on Empty"

Matt Nathanson

"Come on Get Higher"

Cat Stevens

"Another Saturday Night"

Tip of the hat to Stan Lee

Captain America and Bucky created by Jack Kirby and Joe Simon

Bucky brought back from the dead by Ed Brubaker

Happy birthday to Steve (posted July 4th)

For full experience, play dramatic music and sit in the dark continuing to list fanfiction authors, comics writers and illustrators, and actors to yourself for ten minutes

~

“I won’t be long, I promise,” Shuri assured the group, rolling her eyes. “I just want to check on the lab. I’ve been gone more than a week. It’s good to be home.” 

“Let her go,” she heard Nakia saying, laughter in her voice, as the door swung shut. “She needs to tell her projects she’s back.” Shuri smiled. Yes, Nakia was good for her brother.

And she wasn’t completely wrong about that.

Shuri almost skipped down the staircase. It  _ was _ good to be home. It wouldn’t take long to make sure that everything was fine. Then she could rejoin the rest of them for dinner. 

A quick circuit of the lab revealed no surprises. The work she’d done remotely was all in place as it should be; simulations that had long since finished running displayed their results; a set of gauntlets she’d been tinkering with for herself--just in case--was untouched on her workbench. She gave T’Challa’s latest suit a pat and turned to go. Then there was a faint “ding” from her security console. Someone was calling the lab. Someone who did not have official permission.

Shuri was pretty sure who that was. She tapped one of her kimoyo beads, sending the call to voicemail and routing the message to the lab’s speakers.

“Hi,” said a voice, once her away message finished playing. Male, American, sounded a bit distracted. “So, first of all, my AI says your security protocols were really fun to hack and that tells me you probably could’ve locked me out if you wanted, so it’s more of a nuisance-filtration system than a defense, so I was going to apologize for barging in but now I won’t. Besides, this is  _ so _ much faster than going through official channels. Bureaucracy is boring and I kind of don’t do that. --No, Dum-E, don’t put that there, you know better. --Sorry, that wasn’t for you. I’m calling for— Hey! I  _ will  _ donate you to Hunter College. Okay, good. --Message, right, message.

“Okay, look. You know who I am. That means you probably know what I’m working on right now. I know what  _ you  _ do, I have  _ seen _ what you do, and it is a goddamn work of art and I want to know how you did it. Specifically I want to know how you constructed the nerve relays and if it’d work with anything that wasn’t, you know, traumatically exposed--could you interface if a limb was paralyzed but not actually amputated--but also  _ how  _ did you get the elbow and wrist flexibility to mimic normal human parameters and would any of the techniques work with a more common metal, or ultimately I’m hoping to produce these in some kind of plastic, and would that work or does the construction material itself need to be capable of carrying a charge for some of the more complex relays? I’m trying to integrate nanobots into one prototype, but that’s honestly causing more problems than it solves right now, and you are clearly better at this than me  _ and _ clearly like sharing because hello, Technological Outreach Ministry, so let’s talk. We can make something really cool. Oh, and how’d you solve the problem with—”

Laughing, Shuri tapped the kimoyo bead again. “Hello, Mr. Stark.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on Steve Rogers' 101st birthday. 
> 
> Major thanks to [Lorien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorien/pseuds/Lorien) for answering my e-mail on the 1st saying "Hey, I want to post something on Steve's birthday, will you beta?" with a resounding yes, and then providing detailed and thoughtful feedback in a very tight timeframe. You're the best!


End file.
